


Duffel Bags

by secretlyaperson



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Airports, M/M, Modern AU, This is an AU, but sh its ok, bye, everyone's a massive nerd, everything's slightly improbable, jean is ridiculous, jean wears a suit, marco is an art student guy thing, marcos hair is dyed, picked up the wrong bag at the airport au, sorry for the tag abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:46:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1327243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretlyaperson/pseuds/secretlyaperson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jean gets home only to realize he's got the wrong bag!!! now that i've pretty much given away the whole plot, come read to watch adorable silly hilarity ensue (hopefully. if everything goes with the plan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounter

Jean tapped his foot impatiently, gazing over the heads of the rest of the still-seated passengers of the stuffy airplane. People always told him there was no point in standing up before it was actually time to walk off the plane, especially when he was seated at the very back, but he could never resist. It’s not like I’m the only one, a lot other people were standing up too he thought. OK, so one other person might not be considered a lot of people, but it was still some. Jean looked behind him to see if there were more people standing, starting to feel a little bit awkward at being practically the only one out of his seat. It was one thing when he was with friends, but a little different when he was flying alone. 

Well he’s cute Jean thought, seeing a freckled 20-something man with blue-black hair sitting one row behind him. Or a lot of rows, according to my previous use of the word Jean thought, admiring the man’s grey eyes, which were currently engrossed a thick book that was open on the little fold-able table you technically were supposed to have closed at this point. Jean briefly considered telling the guy to close it as an excuse to talk to the him, but before he could say anything everyone else started to stand up to get off the plane as the pilot announced over the speakers that it was time to unload. Jean whipped his head around; fearful the guy would look up and see him staring directly at him. 

While everyone else was reaching for their carry-ons from the overhead baggage compartments, Jean quickly slipped to the front of the plane and raced out of the door. He could never stand the time it took to store a carry-one bag, so he always checked his bag, no matter how short his trip was. People always told him this was ridiculous too. Especially when they had to deal with his frustration when the baggage train took a long time. 

Fortunately, this time the baggage train was already going around when he got to it, even though only “a lot” of bags were on it. As more bags slid down the ramp to join their solitary brother, more people Jean vaguely recognized from his flight trickled out to gather around the conveyor belt and started to grab their luggage. With a little start of joy, Jean saw that his bag had just come down the ramp and was headed towards him. Jean grabbed the nondescript black duffel bag by its easily accessible handles before taking off to catch a taxi home to his apartment. 

One cab rid later, Jean hung his blazer on the hook next to the door of his apartment and loosened his tie. He hated travelling, especially flying, in a suit, but he didn’t have a choice. He knew he couldn't exactly show up to a meeting wearing the jeans and sweatshirt he would have preferred. Further loosening his tie and unbuttoning a couple buttons of his shirt, he lifted his bag unto his bed and unzipped the zipper only to find that it was full of stuff that… wasn't his stuff?

The very first thing in the bag was a khaki-green jacket that had crossing wings on the back. Jean knew for sure he didn't own a jacket like that. He took it out to find that the rest of the clothes were not his own either. At this point, it occurred to Jean that since this bag was not his, it meant that his bag was not here, and that he was missing his bag. Ughhhh, I can’t believe I this actually happened to me he thought, ruffling his hair as he searched the bag for information about who owned the bag. He found a fancy leather tag, which he pulled out to reveal a name, a phone number, and a picture of the man who sat behind him on the plane. 

Jean sat down heavily on his bed. He couldn't believe his luck. He’d gotten a hot guy’s number without even having to say a word to him. And- 

He realized that was probably the creepiest way of thing about the whole situation. Who knew if they guy even wanted him to have his number, of if he was even gay or anything. Oh well. Either way, he had to call him and tell him he had his bag. And then they’d have to meet too, so he could give him his big. And then-

OK, I've got to stay away from the creepy from now on he thought. Picking up his phone, he flipped open the smooth tag and had typed in the first couple digits of the man’s number, whose name was apparently Marco, when his phone began to buzz. Jean tapped the button to answer the call from an unknown number and hesitantly raised the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” he said, leaning back to lie down on the bed with his legs hanging off the edge.

The voice that was absolutely lovely. “Um, is this uh, Jean Kirst- uh, Jean K-something? I'm sorry I'm not sure how to pronounce that…”

Jean blinked once, not quite believing how cute it was that the possessor of this amazing voice couldn't pronounce his name. “Um yeah that’s me, and it’s um, Kirschtein. Um, who is this?”

“Oh right, well see I came home from the airport and I guess we have the same bag cause I accidentally took yours and so uh yeah. I have your bag. From the plane. I'm sorry, I'm not great with talking on the phone” the guy on the phone said before laughing nervously. “Oh and my name’s Marco.”

“Wait, Marco?” Jean scrambled to read the tag on the bag. “Are you Marco…” Fuck thought Jean. How do you pronounce this?

“Bodt?” the voice queried from the phones speaker.

“Um yeah. That’s it. Sorry. Well anyways that means I have your bag too. So we should probably meet. And exchange them” Jean stuttered. He couldn't believe he was making such a fool of himself. He liked to think of himself as a confident person, but hot guys with hot voices could always make him lose his cool. 

“Oh well that’s good! I'm glad I don’t have to call the airport or something. People always tell me I’ll lose my bag since it’s so plain, and I guess they were right, huh?” 

“Yeah I get that all the time, but I've just never been able to stand brightly coloured luggage and stuff, you know?”

“Yeah, me too” the voice chuckled. There was a small pause as the two men both realized they didn't actually know the person they were talking to. Jean interrupted it by saying:

“So where should we meet then? Maybe a coffee shop or something, um like that?”

“There's one just down the street from me, on Vine Street? Is that close to you?”

After quickly searching up the location of the coffee shop in question, Jean determined that it was actually a fair distance from where he was and also that he was completely willing to go there. “That should be fine” said Jean. 

After another pause Marco said “So tomorrow? I’ll see you there tomorrow? At, uh, two in the afternoon maybe?”

“Sounds good. Bye. See you then. Bye.” Jean tapped the red hang-up button on his phone and stood up from the bed. Well, I kind of made a mess of that, but I will have another chance tomorrow to prove I can actually say words like a grown man thought Jean. After taking off his suit, he put on some comfy sweatpants and climbed into bed. Before turning off the light, however, he picked up his phone, and feeling a little foolish, he saved Marcos number on his phone. And it was nobody’s business if he saved it under Marco: Cute Plane Guy.


	2. The Coffee Shop on Vine Street

Jean shuffled though his closet, looking through his hung-up shirts to find the right thing to wear to meet Marco. To his dismay, he was realising that a lot of his clothes were ones given for free to all employees at the coffee shop he was a manager of. No way can I show up to a coffee shop wearing a shirt with the logo of a different coffee shop on it Jean thought, shoving more shirts to the side. It was starting to dawn on him that he didn’t really meet many new people. Well, I’ve got to wear something Jean thought, grumbling to himself. He made a mental note to go clothes shopping later as he pulled out a plain grey t-shirt. He tended to not spend much money since he was technically saving up for college, even though that’d been going on for a couple years now. Three years ago, when he’d graduated high school, there had been no way he could have afforded to go to any school, so he’d watched all his friends go to universities or colleges, and had stuck with his part-time job at a coffee shop downtown. Now he was manager of said coffee shop, and had his own apartment and life, and not enough reason to give it up to go back to school. He also didn’t have enough money to pay for it anyways. He hadn’t made many new friends since he’d left high school, besides a couple from work. So really, if we end up just being friends, that’d be a blessing in itself, he thought as he put the shirt on, and slipped on a pair of jeans.

Grabbing his keys and his favourite brown jacket, he was almost out the door when he caught sight of a black duffel bag sitting beside his bed. I can’t believe I'm such a fucking idiot he thought as he angrily grabbed the bag and slammed the door shut behind him. Remember, this is technically just to exchange bags, you idiot.

Once he was out on the street, he zipped up his padded jacket, caught off guard by how cold it had gotten. It was November after all, but he hadn’t expected to be able to see his breath in the frosty air already. He stuffed the hand that wasn’t holding the bag into his pocket and starting walking. He didn’t have a car, since he was “saving up for college” and he never had enough patience to take the bus. He hated how it was always stopping and starting. So he was stuck walking halfway across the city to get to the coffee shop on Vine Street. 

After a half hour walk without anything to think about but the meeting he had ahead of him, Jean was starting to feel nervous. What’s more, he was absolutely freezing, and the shaking of his hands really wasn’t helping matters. His hands were stiff with the cold, and he wondered if he’d be able to pry them off the bag when he got to his destination. Jean turned the corner onto Vine Street, and paused to look at the one block he had to walk to arrive at the coffee shop. He could already see the sigh that said: “The Coffee Shop on Vine Street.” That’s a bit pretentious Jean thought. I'm sure there are other coffee shops on this street. Why is this one the one? 

Jean looked around and saw this was a pretty nice area. All the buildings were modern, with big windows and classy restaurants and stores underneath them. Marco lives here? Damn, the guy must be loaded Jean thought, before reminding himself to not think like a gold digger. Remember, were still technically just here to exchange bags. I’ll suggest we have some coffee. And we’ll talk. That’s the game plan he thought, trying to psych himself up. 

Jean glanced at the time on his phone before he opened the door of “The Coffee Shop”. Shit, I'm five minutes late he thought. He quickly opened the door and was instantly relieved at how warm it was. Nervously, he looked around, trying to spot the freckles and blue-ish hair from the plane, but they were nowhere to be found. I guess I’ll buy some coffee. I’ll buy him a coffee too. What type of coffee does he like? Suddenly struck by an idea, he pulled out his phone and slowly typed with his numb fingers “I’m at the place. What type of coffee do you like?” and sent it to Marco’s number. He got in the line, which was quite long, and decided that if he didn’t reply he’d just get two lattes or something. 

However, he didn’t have to worry because almost immediately Jean’s phone buzzed with a text. “I'm sorry, I’ll be there soon! Uh just tell the barista it’s for Marco. They’ll know”.

Wow, the baristas know his order. I guess he’s a fan of coffee then. Maybe he’ll like my coffee shop and- 

Jean was knocked out of his day dream when he got to the front of the line. He managed to mumble out that he wanted a latte and “one of whatever, um, Marco usually gets. Please”. The girl at the counter raised an eyebrow and smirked but said nothing as she wrote down the order. Jean paid and then sat down at a table that was beside the window. He noticed it was starting to snow, and the window was fogging up around the edges. Lost in his own thoughts, he put the bag on top of the table. Lost in his own thoughts, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder. 

“Jean? I got our coffees. Uh, you are Jean, right?” said the voice that belonged to the hand, as Jean looked up to see Marco standing beside him holding two coffees. 

“Oh yeah, yeah that’s me, hi” Jean stumbled out as he stood up and was about to shake Marco’s and, before realising both of Marco’s hands were occupied with the coffee. “Sit down!” Jean said, as a way to dispel the awkwardness. 

Marco sat across from him, with his back facing the window. He handed Jean his coffee, which Jean thanked him for before taking a sip. Besides the background noise from the coffee shop, it was absolutely silent.

Goddamn it, what should I say? Why does he have to be so fucking cute? Jean thought. I’ll just, give him the bag. To start with. Ok let’s do this. 

“Here’s your bag, by the way” he said, trying to smile at the man sitting across from him. 

“Oh right! Here’s yours” Marco said. “Sorry about that mix up by the way. I guess it serves us both right for having the most standard bags in the whole universe”.

Jean laughed before saying “Yeah, I guess it does. But I hate to get a new one or something when this one works just fine.”

The two chatted a bit about bags, and then air travel in general, before Marco asked Jean where he was flying from, to which Jean replied “I was at a meeting. I’m the manager for a different coffee shop down on 64th avenue. Since it’s a chain, I’ve got to attend all these big meetings, and sometimes they send me all over the place. It’s not so bad though, ‘cause they’ve got to pay for the trip and everything”

“Wait, you work all the way down at 64th avenue? That’s a half hour walk from here!” Marco exclaimed. “Did you drive here?”

“Oh no, I don’t have a car or anything. I’m supposedly saving up for college, so a car’s out of the question. I walked here.” Jean replied.

“You walked here? But… that’s so far! Why didn’t you tell me you lived so far away, we could have met somewhere closer to your place? I even have a car too.” Marco said, looking worriedly at Jean. “You didn’t get pneumonia or something, did you? It’s freezing out there!” 

Waving his hands in front of him defensively, Jean said “It wasn’t any trouble! I like walking! And speaking of freezing, you don’t even have a coat with you! You're the one who should be worried about getting pneumonia!”

“Well I’ve only got one coat, and it’s in my bag. And besides I just live in that building across the street. Anyways, next time we can meet somewhere closer to you.” 

There was a moment of silence while they both realised what Marco had said before Marco’s face turned bright red and he said to the table “That is, if you want there to be a next time or… or whatever.”

Jean’s heart was pounding a little bit as he exclaimed “Yes! Yes I definitely want to see you again. So we should definitely do that.” The two men smiled at each other over their coffee mugs, which had been empty for some time. 

Jean glanced at his phone screen to check the time before saying “Oh shit, I’m going to be late for my shift.” Looking up he said “I’m sorry, but I’ve really got to run. And I mean really run if I want to make it there in time.” Jean stood up and grabbed his bag.

“Do you want a ride? As I said, I have a car, so I could get you there in ten minutes.” Marco stood up as well. 

“Oh god, you're a life saver, Marco” Jean said. “It really doesn’t look good if the manager’s late.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just let me get my coat out from this bag and we’ll go.” Marco said. He opened up the bag and took out the green coat. 

Seeing again the wings on the back Jean asked “What do those wings mean? Sorry, I was just wondering since I saw them when I first opened your bag.”

Marco blushed again. “Well, it’s the logo of my band. We’re not very good or anything; it’s just me and some people from my college.”

They both left the coffee shop, and Jean could see the barista he’d seen earlier wink at Marco before they walked out the door. “Oh that’s cool; I always wanted to be in a band when I was younger. What college do you go to?” Jean asked, curious to know more about Marco’s life. 

“Just the Arts College a couple blocks from here. It’s not very prestigious or anything, but they have a great visual arts program, which is what I'm studying.” Marco replied. He opened the door of a small convertible that was the same colour of green as Marco’s jacket. 

They both got into the car, with Jean sitting beside Marco in the passenger seat. This would be a good car to make out in he thought, before realising he was probably getting a bit ahead of himself. We only met today after all. Still. I wouldn’t mind.

After ten minutes of comfortable chatting with occasional interruptions from Jean to give directions, they arrived at Jean’s apartment. 

“I’ll text you later.” Jean said as he got out of the car. “It’s convenient that I’ve already got your number I guess” he added, smiling sheepishly. 

“Yes it is” Marco replied, smiling. “I’ll see you later; don’t be late for your shift!”

Jean closed the car door and began to walk across the sidewalk to his door. As he walked up the stairs to his apartment, he was already resisting the urge to text Marco right away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! again, pointing out my mistakes is very much appreciated :) i'll try to set up some sort of schedule or something for updates :)


	3. The Coffee Shop on 64th Avenue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woops sorry its so short but lots of stuff happening in the next chapter and i didn't want it to be too long

Jean opened the door of his workplace and walked in. He took a peek at his phone to check the time and found he was actually five minutes early, thanks to the ride he’d gotten from Marco. Every time he thought about the whole thing, he kind of wanted to jump up and down with joy. But of course I’d never do that he thought. Well I mean I already did when I got into my apartment but whatever. No one has any proof.

“Hey Jean, what are you so happy about?” said Jean’s assistant manager, Connie. “I saw you bounce up the stairs of your building from across the street. It’s a glass door, you know” he added when he saw Jean’s confused look.

Shit Jean thought. I guess someone does have proof. “Oh, nothing. I mean I am happy, but it’s… it’s nothing.” Jean realised he was making a mess of things and decided to busy himself by tying on the mandatory red apron that had his name tag on it. 

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with that green car I know doesn’t belong to you that you got out of would it?” Connie smirked and sidled up beside Jean.

The little shit Jean thought. Why does his shift have to start half an hour before mine? “I guess you could say they're not unrelated” he countered, trying to avoid the question, unwilling to give Connie further ammunition.

“Come on Jean!” Connie complained, backing up to lean against the opposite counter. “Are we not good enough friends that you can tell me stuff? I’m like your only friend after all, if you don’t tell me who’re you gonna tell?”

Well he’s got a point there. I guess I can tell him a few things. “Ok, ok fine. I met a guy. And we went out sort of. For coffee. And he drove me home. Happy?” Jean focused on the pointless task of re-pinning his name tag onto his apron. 

He looked up and immediately reared back in surprise when he saw that Connie’s face was inches from his own. “Really?! What’s his name? Where did you meet?! Tell me everything!” Connie all but screamed. 

Jesus Christ he’s the nosiest person I’ve ever met. Good thing the shop’s empty I guess. “We met on the plane, when I was coming back from that meeting. We took each other’s bags home. That’s all you get to know.” Jean saw that Connie was about to protest, but he glared him down. Customers could start coming in at any moment, and there was a reason Jean was the manager. Even though it wasn’t a particularly respected job, Jean had mastered making the complicated drinks on the menu within weeks and that combined with his intensely professional attitude had caused the promotions to heap up steadily. 

Now that he had time to think, Jean began to actually digest what was happening. He’d actually succeeded in meeting a guy. A guy who liked him. A hot guy who liked him. And it’s starting to look like a hot, rich guy. I mean that was a nice car and a nice apartment and he doesn’t even seem to have a job or anythi- I really need to stop thinking like a gold digger Jean thought. But for real that car was really hot…

Jean spent the rest of his shift day-dreaming about the potential scenarios that could lead to him being alone with Marco in the back seat of the convertible. Luckily, Connie was taking all the orders, so all he had to do was make the drinks, which he could easily do without too much thought. 

When his shift was finally over, Jean practically skipped out of the shop. He knew Connie was watching him and probably smirking some more, and even more probably gossiping about him with his girlfriend over text, but he didn’t really care. All he could think about was how long he had to wait before he texted Marco again. Is there a certain amount of time you have to wait? I’ve heard you’re supposed to wait a day to call but what about texting? Jean thought as he crossed the street and opened the door to his apartment lobby. He climbed the stairs, still musing over how long he had to wait when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Taking it out, his face instantly exploded into a smile as he saw the contact name of the text; Marco: cute plane guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so my goal for updates is at least once a week by monday. and yeah i know this one is already late for that deadline shhh
> 
> as always, feedback is really appreciated! thanks for reading!


	4. Home From Work

Once Jean had made it safely to his own apartment, he immediately sat down to bask in the joy of getting texts from what was turning out to be the boy of his dreams. He lay down on his back on top of his bed and held his phone above his head at arm’s length. He relished the moment before opening the text.

“You forgot your jacket in my car you idiot” the text from Marco read.

Jean slowly looked to the hook by his door, where his brown jacket would normally be hanging beside his suit jacket. The hook was empty.

I can’t fucking believe I did that Jean thought, rolling over so he was lying face down on his bed. At least this means I can text him back.

Jean got up and sat at his desk, trying to regain some of his dignity. He quickly taped out his reply: 

“Fuck.”

The reply came surprisingly fast. 

“You're such an idiot. Guess this just means that next time’s gonna have to happen sooner???”

Play it cool Jean, play it cool Jean thought as he tried to figure out how to reply without sounding like a complete dork. He tried out a couple variations before sending:

“Guess so :) when are you free?”

The decision of whether he was brave enough to put a ;) had ended with Jean deciding he was an absolute coward after all. He was about to get up and try to find something to eat in his post-trip-empty kitchen, when his phone buzzed again.

“Does Friday work for you??? I could pick you up, if that works for you??”

“That sounds great what should we do?”

“Well, we could do the classic first date thing and go to a movie.”

Jean exhaled and thanked whatever gods existed for Marco being the one to confirm the status of their next meeting as official first date. He couldn’t stand playing games where he was just trying to figure out what exactly was going on. 

“What should we see?”

Jean hoped he didn’t sound too brusque. He knew he tended to be more straightforward than most people, but he found he didn’t have the patience to beat around the bush like many people did. He wondered if Marco was putting as much thought as he was into these messages. He stared at his phone for a minute, but when no reply came immediately, he decided to get back to his quest for food. 

Jean was munching on some slightly decrepit granola bars he’d found in the back of a cupboard when he finally heard his phone vibrate against the bedside table. 

“Sorry for the long reply, I was looking up movie times. We could see the new Captain America movie at 7???”

“I’m off work at 6, so that’s perfect”

“Great! K I gtg c u then”

His text language is adorable. He sounds like a teenager Jean thought. He hoped his limited knowledge of “the text-speak” would be enough to successfully text Marco. He went back to his stale granola bars, and wondered how he was going to get by the rest of the week without a jacket. As he’d seen from this morning, it was way too cold to walk anywhere even with a jacket, so he’d probably die if he tried it without one. Good thing I work across the street he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow im so sorry this is a month after my deadline and also the shortest chapter ever, life's been getting in the way lately :/  
> thank you for reading if anyone actually is still :)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please give me any feedback you have, it keeps me strong.


End file.
